Monday, 23 April 2012

Early morning meeting? No problem. Lie-in until 10, have a shower, a light breakfast, slightly too many cups of coffee then dial in 7am and arrive before anyone else. Look smug.

Can't be bothered to wait 10 minutes for dinner to be done in the microwave? Easy pop back in time, put dinner on, return in time for the ping.

Neighbour's dog keeping you up at night? Easy pop the Squiddrel* over the fence and enjoy the silence (after about 10 minutes). Actually that has nothing to do with time travel, but it is fun.

Annoyed by the slow service at your local fried chicken takeaway? Go back 50 years, replace the Colonel's 11 different herbs and spices by a mixture of sulphur, charcoal and saltpeter. When you return to the present the orders will be literally flying out.

But my favourite thing of all is sharing a nice cup of tea with figures from the past. Marilyn, JFK, Thomas Edison, Brunnel, Granny Smith. Last week I went for a brew with Nikola Tesla. The conversation couldn't have been more interesting, but I was unable to make my hair lay flat for a month afterwards.

Friday, 20 April 2012

There was a letter on the mat by the front door. Thankfully it hadn't been chewed by the dog, as I don't have one.

I opened the envelope. It was heavy, slightly yellow with a course grain to the paper. I pulled out the letter which was folded into three. I unfolded it and it cracked in a satisfying manner. I was hoping I was finally going to be recognised by the Royal Society. It would be much more of an honour than being recognised by the local police.

It was from a Royal Society. Unfortunately the wrong one. It was from the Royal Society for the Protection of Unnatural Hybrid Animals Abandoned in the Wrong Timeframe. The RSPUHAAWT had to be the most specific charity organisation ever. I suspect they didn't have a huge case load.

In the corner of the paper was an embossed gold crown with the words "By appointment to His Majesty". The black writing was raised slightly above the paper and I could almost read the words with my fingertips. Expensive and classy.

Dear Dr Tunguska,

We understand you are the creator of an Arboreal Cephalopod, a Squiddrel in fact, and due to your carelessness have left it causing a bit of a disturbance in 1980.

The citizens of 1980 would like this creature removed as it is ruining their enjoyment of the great music of their era. It loves to dance, hogs the space on the disco floor and has eaten at least three DJs.

Please resolve this matter urgently or we shall be forced to take action.

Yours, Harold Wingnut.

The letter was lightly scented. I phoned Indigo Roth.

"Hello. Roth residence. Please leave a message after the beep." The answer machine then said "bleep."

"Roth, if you want to go for a pizza you don't have to go to this much effort. A phone call will do."